No assembly RequireD

Not being Bowen Yang comes with its benefits because I do not know how one walks out of Emerald Fennell’s new film pretending to be shocked by its third act turn. As he was informed by the wise Tina Fey, he no longer has the luxury of honesty. Thankfully for this critic that gift still exists and it’s with no fear of mine to state that the latest WUTHERING HEIGHTS adaptation is truly miserable. And while a page for page adaptation is neither necessary nor expected it is still harrowing to see Bronte’s work be used as a vessel to mask Fennell’s unimaginative desires. Desires that are as dull and tame as something you’d see on basic cable but in the film’s mind dangerous and provocative. That sexually violent third act turn thankfully never arrives and yet here is a film that still believes it has you by the throat and longing for its next kiss. Instead WUTHERING HEIGHTS quickly morphs into fan fiction that feels wasted on the big screen and merely meant for fan fiction sites. Hell one could argue that if AO3 existed in Fennell’s youth the whole problem could have been avoided. But regardless WUTHERING HEIGHTS (or “WUTHERING HEIGHTS” as the studio insists on adding the quotations) is now out in the world but its attempt to make us come undone just falls off the cliffs.

Sex and death appear to have more in common than one may think. Before the opening credits even finish we hear the intense moaning of a man, is it through passion or pain? When it is revealed to be a public hanging Fennell instantly is showing a fun slight of hand that wants their audience to understand that while sex may be a joyous stimulation the moments in between or the longing have the intensity of life ending misery. Its humorous and admirable especially given the Bronte text that has inspired countless writers and creators. But for little Catherine (Charlotte Mellington) seeing this hanging is as horrifying as it gets. Catherine lives at the titular Wuthering Heights a large farmhouse run by her violent alcoholic father Mr. Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) with only her paid companion Nelly (Hong Chau) as a friend. That is until Earnshaw brings home a young boy he claims to have rescued who Catherine names Heathcliffe (Owen Cooper). Early on Fennell succeeds at setting the stage mainly due to throwing everything in the film’s production at us right away. The large landscape of Yorkshire (shot both on location and soundstage) as well as Linus Sandgren’s overwhelming cinematography. And if that is not enough Fennell has enlisted legendary Scottish musician John Cale to work alongside club banger creator Charli XCX who trades in club antics for seductive and unsettling beats. It has all the cards right early on and yet it doesn’t take long for WUTHERING HEIGHTS to fall apart faster than a poorly laced corset.

WUTHERING HEIGHTS is more than a tale of longing romance, it is a story of classism, racism, generational abuse and yes longing. A ghost tale drenched in self-inflicted pan. And yet amongst all this Fennell seems to only be interested in the former. As Heathcliffe and Catherine grow together and become closer it is always met at the violent hands of Mr. Earnshaw. Catherine’s brother Hilton dead before the film begins forces the film to move away from the pain Heathcliffe will endure far into his adult years and while neither this film (nor any film for that matter) will move to the second half of the novel it feels misguided to gut early elements when one is already leaving off a second (and far more important) half of the story. But merely criticizing a film for being different than the book is pure hogwash. However one can see that throughout the drama of the film Fennell only has one goal. As Heathcliff and Catherine become older (portrayed by Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie respectively) there arises another and possibly biggest issue of the film. The two performers have no chemistry. There is no denying the star power of both Elordi and Robbie. In fact both seem almost tailor made for Fennell’s vision. But unfortunately and quite aggravatingly that vision always shortens itself. For Robbie that girlish wonder and yearning never manages to go beyond her proclaiming her love for Heathcliff. It’s all tell and no show. For Elordi a greater issue is at hand in regard to the casting that both removes the Romani of Heathcliff as well as disregards the source materials standing on the way outsiders were treated. Elordi plays brooding well but it solely in service to his love for Catherine and not just the persecution of his ancestry. But then again how could it be when removing the character’s ethnicity. And what is left for Elordi? Mainly to be a seduction with enough putting of his fingers in your mouth to either make you moan or gag.

But even as WUTHERING HEIGHTS goes along and you are meant to feel the pain of the separation of the two characters the film actually finds some sense of understanding as when Catherine eventually lives with and marries the wealthy Edgar Linton (a greatly underutilized Shazad Latif) the film is allowed to breathe for a moment. The production design, while glamourous does borderline on cheap soundstage which forces its occupants to do the heavy lifting. Thankfully it puts a lot of that effort and the new Linton household on Alison Oliver as Isabella. Oliver on her second go around with Fennell is a rambunctious and curious being that understands the pursuit of sexuality while also the powers that come from upper class. Naïve on the outside but dangerous within Isabella is not just the most amusing character of the lot Oliver will have more naysayers using her as an argument for a better casting of Catherine.

Beyond the small glimpses of excitement, WUTHERING HEIGHTS is a great argument for the selfishness of filmmakers. Now before the pitchforks come flying let me reiterate that every filmmaker is selfish in their vision,  after all it is their vision at the end of the day regardless of collaboration. But what makes WUTHERING HEIGHTS all the more egregious is that its refusal to accept that it has little to no interest in its source. It is merely using it as a vessel not unlike the hundreds of reboots on streaming that merely love the IP name and not the ideas that come along. Whether it be childhood excitement or just seeking an opportunity to build your own world disregarding the nature of the story Fennell has done very little to carry on the legacy of Wuthering Heights. Is it her job to do so? No, but where fan fiction has its own placement the silver screen is not the spot. Then again if Marvel can do it I guess we have to accept it on a more grounded scale as well. Or we can argue against even if it causes us to be dammed.

D+

WUTHERING HEIGHTS IS NOW PLAYING IN THEATERS